


A Dead Sun, a Pale Glow

by vyatka



Series: Eyes Black like an Animal [2]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, Codependency, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Unhealthy Relationships, basically the whole helena & sarah nine, you've heard of PWP but what about AWP (Angst Without Plot)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyatka/pseuds/vyatka
Summary: Sarah runs a finger down the line of an etched feather. Helena's skin twitches like horseflesh."What are you doing?""Havin' a look at your scars," Sarah murmurs. "How long did it take you to do them all?"





	A Dead Sun, a Pale Glow

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for incestuous overtones as in Season One Helena & Sarah. 
> 
> This is a continuation of _Eyes Black like an Animal_ , which was based on [Muzzle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7378897/) by piggy09.

There may be no biological ties between Sarah Manning and Siobhan Sadler, but people have always said they looked alike. In the eyes, particularly. A similarity in what flickers behind them: a cat's careful, aloof mistrust that softens easily to laughter. 

When Sarah was young, she loved it. She loved looking like someone. 

Wait till you get older, Sarah tells the shade of her twelve-year-old self. You'll never run out of lookalikes. 

Particularly the one behind her, combing the tangles of Sarah's wet hair with both a solemn reverence and uncharacteristically gentle hands, pink from the water, matching the chemical burns below her eyelids. Helena washed Sarah's hair with a diligence she affords only to killing and to Sarah. Her two reasons for living, as it seems. Helena understands the basics of human maintenance just fine; Sarah only wishes she'd use them on herself. Helena's own hair has gone ropy with grease, and her breath is the reason Sarah insisted on facing away from her. 

Sarah could - and probably should - just tell her to wash, and brush, and change her clothes, and be a bloody human being. She wishes Helena would just do it unprompted. 

"You are so beautiful," Helena tells her. One side of her mouth curls. "Look, Sarah. See how beautiful you are." 

Sarah looks like a soggy gutter rat, but she does relish the clean hair and the lack of tangles. 

"Thanks, meathead," she says, standing. Her gunshot wound spasms, knee twitching, almost giving out. Instantly Helena is there to take her weight. 

Sarah swats her away. "I can walk." 

It's only half the truth. The bullet had lodged in her bone and ripped through tendon and muscle to get there, and even if it's out, now, Sarah can feel it whenever she moves. She does her best not to show it in front of Helena. Something about the animal instinct not to show weakness to predators. 

Sarah makes it to the dresser in what could be taken for a normal, if slow, amble. "I have an idea, Helena." 

She can almost hear Helena light up. "Yes?" 

"Why don't you wash up, too? Your hair and everything. And when we're done, we can eat something. And talk." Who knows which option will entice her the most. 

The shaggy yellow head nods. "Yes. Okay. Yes." 

Sarah grits her teeth. Why can't Helena just - fucking - make this _easier_. 

But that's just it. She does. Which is what makes it hard. Sarah swears under her breath and turns to look at her, shaking her hair out of her eyes. "I can wash your hair," she says. Each word feels like a bite. Whose, she's not sure. "Like you did for me. If you want." 

Helena stares at her, unblinking. "Yes." The third 'yes' in as many minutes. "Yes. Do this, please. Sarah." Always, on her name, hungry and possessive - Sarah. 

***

Helena's body is nothing like Sarah's. 

Sarah has scars of her own, sure. Most of them are pink or white, soft, and hard to notice unless you're close enough to kiss them. Not so for Helena's. Helena's angel scars are livid, a dark, furious red from decades of being opened and reopened, and they span magnificently from the bones of her shoulders to just below her hips. They're beautiful, and terrible, and asymmetrical, sort of like Helena herself. And the skin below them is so _pale._ Sarah runs a finger down the line of an etched feather. Helena's skin twitches like horseflesh. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Havin' a look at your scars," Sarah murmurs. "How long did it take you to do them all?" 

Water slaps against the tub. Helena runs her own finger along them, meeting Sarah's. Sarah draws it away. "A few years for first one to be finished. I cut a little more every day, but it was slow, and wounds close, so I had to start over many times." An eye glances up at her with the apathetic innocence of a doe. "I could make you some wings, too, Sarah." There's a ripple in her muscles, in her arms and back. The scars and the papery skin sit over muscles like iron. Sarah only has to glance at them to remember the strength in Helena's fingers. Those bruises took a long time to wear off of her neck. 

"Yeah, pass on that one." Sarah pulls Helena's head back and sluices water over her hair. And more of her face than was intended. Helena sputters. "Besides, you need to save your strength, yeah? There's Neos that still need hunting." 

"Mm. This is true." Helena rises a little out of the bathwater, shivering. "Do you think - " Shampoo must sting her eyes, because she rubs them. "This is horrible. And stinging. Can I be finished, please." 

"Whatever." Sarah stands up and bends over to shake her hair for the third time. Mostly she wants to avoid seeing Helena naked any more than she has to - Helena, she has found, is one of those unnerving people who doesn't notice or care when they're not wearing clothes. "Put something on, then we'll eat. Yeah?" 

Sarah hates how enthusiastically Helena nods, edging on a beam, almost as much as she hates herself. She wants Helena to leave, she wants Helena to attack her, she wants Helena to behave like a real, normal person, predictable and easy to read. She might hit Helena, except Helena relishes when Sarah strikes her almost as much as when Sarah feeds her. 

She kicks her bed. The pain spikes up into her wound.

***

They sit cross-legged on the bed, hair dripping onto the ratty comforter. Helena eats; Sarah picks at a doughnut before giving up, appetiteless. 

"Helena," she says instead, pulling a paper from her pocket. She flicks it at her. 

Mouth full, Helena squints at it. 

"Bring him here." Sarah rubs her knee. "If anyone says anything, or sees you - " 

Helena makes a gunshot noise, grinning, cocking her fingers in a mock pistol. 

Sarah makes herself smile. "Yeah," she says. "That."

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


End file.
